


Hostage

by CascadianRain



Series: So Long to Devotion [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood Mages, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Quest: Best Served Cold, F/M, Hawke rages out, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Loss of Control, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:39:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadianRain/pseuds/CascadianRain
Summary: 9:37 DragonWhile investigating mages that Meredith suspects are sneaking out at night, Hawke learns that Sebastian has been kidnapped to dissuade her from further inquiries. Nothing will stand in her way from either rescuing him or avenging him. Nothing.





	Hostage

The morning drew on, there were a thousand things to do, and yet Charlie couldn’t bring herself to leave the comfort of her bed. Sebastian didn’t help matters. His chestnut hair was tousled from sleep and Charlie couldn’t help but comb her fingers through the soft strands. A sleepy smile pulled at Sebastian’s lips and something close to a purr sent Charlie’s heart racing.

“Morning,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I won’t have time for breakfast. I need to get going...”

The purr turned to a protest. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Charlie’s middle and pulled them together, his skin warm against hers. Charlie gripped his arm as though to fight him off, but really it was an excuse to touch his firm, archer muscles.

“Stay here with me.” Sleep made his voice rough and his accent thicker. To make his argument, Sebastian began to lay kisses against Charlie’s bare skin, wherever he could reach. He began at the top of her thigh and moved up to her hip, over her belly, then lower, promising endless delights if only she’d stay. His hand moved across her back to her side and up, where his thumb rubbed circles in the soft flesh of her breast.

Sebastian’s ministrations drew a moan from Charlie as tight heat curled deep in her core. How easy it would be to stay—only half an hour, or maybe an hour.

No. Not this time.

Charlie laid her hands on his shoulders. “I can’t. Her Ladyship the Knight-Commander summoned me to the Gallows. She’s not the most patient of people.”

Sebastian’s smile vanished. His blue eyes opened at last and he looked up at her. “I’ll get my armor.”

Her hands spread down his back as she leaned down to kiss his brow. “It’s fine, the others are meeting me at the Docks, I won’t be going alone. Stay here so I’ll have a reason to come home faster. Though, I do have a list of errands that have been piling up for awhile. I may be a bit later tonight. You’re a delicious distraction.”

He left a lingering kiss on her skin and ended it with a nip of his teeth. “Anything for you.”

\+ + +

The memory of twilight clung to the square of sky visible from the Hightown courtyard. The metallic, wet stench of blood was still fresh in Hawke’s nose and she left her companions to the task of searching the corpses. The adrenaline from the fight was ebbing away, replaced by the chill of the late evening. Hawke shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth. She glanced at the courtyard exit, toward home and Sebastian.

Meredith had asked her to investigate some mages with muddy boots which lead, _eventually_ , to a clandestine meeting, a refusal to surrender, and a slaughter. Not the day Hawke had hoped for, but she was Champion first, Hawke second, and Charlie third.

“Found something,” Varric called as he waved a tattered piece of paper. “They’ve got a warehouse at the Docks.”

Fenris left off from the body he was searching. “We’d best get there quickly, before they discover that it’s compromised.”

Hawke’s gaze slid back toward her estate and she sighed. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“Have something better to do?” Varric asked with a smirk.

She met his challenge with a lifted chin. “Maybe I do.”

That was enough to distract Isabela from relieving the dead of their gold jewelry. “Oooh, is it a some _one_? Is this why I haven’t seen you round the Hanged Man in ages? Who is it? Tell me, tell me!”

Hawke fought fruitlessly against a smile. “If you’re good, I might consider it. Let’s get this done first.”

\+ + +

Sebastian reached the end of the page without having absorbed a single word. He set the book down with a sigh and gazed into the fireplace. The study was quiet and still save for the small fire crackling away. The whole estate was empty: Bodahn and Sandal were off visiting a surfacer cousin in Lowtown, Chevalier was training with Aveline’s guards, and Charlie… Sebastian dug fingers into his thigh to stop his worried thoughts. She was the Champion: a powerful fighter with strong friends. Those who didn’t love her, feared her. She was only detained by errands. That was all.

Despite the reassurances, his gaze wandered to the clock on the wall. It was well past dinner.

A faint scraping at the front door made him sit up in the wingback chair. Hope lifted his steps as he hurried to the foyer. It was probably only Aveline returning with Chevalier—

The door opened and Sebastian stopped short at the sight of three strangers. Two Templars and a mage. The mage was shoving lock picking tools back into his robes.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Sebastian snarled. How _dare_ they attempt to break into the Champion’s home. To steal from her? Search for incriminating letters? Set a trap? His hands curled into fists. He would not allow them one more step inside the one place Charlie felt safe.

One of the Templars lifted a hand. “No need to be alarmed. We won’t hurt you, serah. If you’ll just come with us, everything will be fine.”

It took a second for the words to make sense. They were there for _him_? Was Meredith summoning him—no, they broke in. Used the wrong words. _We won’t hurt you_. None of this was sanctioned, or if it was, Meredith didn’t want anyone to know about it.

“Get. Out.” He may be unarmed, but he was no stranger to brawling, even if it had been over ten years since his last fight.

The second Templar made an annoyed growl in his throat and rushed forward. The man wasn’t expecting a noble to put up a fight and left himself wide open for Sebastian’s punch to the side of his head. The man fell back against the wall, staggered. The first Templar grabbed him, but Sebastian matched him easily. The man’s shock at the resistance gave Sebastian grim satisfaction. His soft, expensive clothes hid nineteen years of training to maintain the strength to pull a longbow.

He nearly had the man’s arm in a position to lever it when he caught movement from the mage. The man drew a dagger and advanced a half-step. But the raised dagger fell instead to mage’s own arm. As blood flowed forth, the mage began to murmur an incantation and a red glow rose up around him.

 _Blood magic!_ Panic seared through Sebastian. There was no telling what horrors they might inflict on him—or force him to inflict on Charlie. “No—!”

\+ + +

Varric kicked over a body that had fallen on its side. The warehouse was filled with the recently killed. “More dead idiots.”

Hawke wiped splattered blood from her face with a kerchief. “Izzy, next time you tenderize a baddie, maybe hold off until I’m more than ten feet away.”

Isabela laughed as she cleaned her daggers on a less messy corpse. “Sorry, honey. There’s a bit in your hair—just there.” She gestured with a dagger.

Hawke’s eyes widened with horror and she flicked at her head until the chunk of flesh and cloth fell away. “Ugh! Disgusting!” She tugged the tie out of her hair and bent over, fluffing her fingers through the orange strands to free any more ‘bits’ courtesy of Isabela’s wild assaults. She flicked her head back and began to retie her ponytail, glaring around at the dead bodies. It was _their_ fault after all. “ _Please_ tell me that was the end of it and I can go home and wash.”

“Ch-Champion?” A blond head poked out from behind a crate at the far end of the warehouse. Instantly Varric had Bianca primed and aimed, Isabela assumed a battle stance, and Fenris began to glow slightly. Hawke couldn’t be bothered. _Hold on_ , she recognized that dopey, bewildered face.

“Keran?”

“I’m so sorry, Champion! If I’d known it was you, I’d never have helped them!”

Anger began to rise. She didn’t like the way he wasn’t saying everything. “Didn’t I save your life once, from demons and blood mages?”

“I’m _so, so sorry_. I only helped transport, I wasn’t there when they grabbed him.”

“Grabbed who? Start making sense or I’ll let one of these fine folks shake you until answers fall out.” Her tone was clipped, dangerous. Energy rippled around the fists clenched at her sides.

Keran shrank back behind the crate, his hands raised. “The rebels, they wanted a hostage until whoever was spying backed off. I didn’t know it was you! I thought the spy must be part of the Chantry because they pulled a Brother from a mansion in Hightown. Maybe not a Brother, but I’ve seen him around the Chantry a lot.”

The energy winked out. The world tilted beneath Hawke. “Sebastian.”

Bianca clicked and whirred—Keran cried out as a bolt pinned him against the wall by the shoulder. Varric growled, “Tell us where you took him and we might let you live.”

\+ + +

The sky lightened with the promise of dawn as Hawke and her friends raced down the Wounded Coast. When Keran described the hideout outside the city, they all knew it instantly. They ran in fits and starts, leaving the towers of Kirkwall behind as the stars moved across the sky and the moon set. At last the island peeked into view, a single campfire marking it as occupied.

The sun was above the horizon by the time they reached the trail head that lead down to the island.

“Why do people always choose _this_ island for their secret hideouts? How many people have we killed here over the years?” Isabela asked as they maneuvered the uneven trail.

Varric slid a half pace on loose sand. “Lots. They should call it Hawke’s Murder Island.”

Hawke didn’t smile at the joke. There was going to be a hell of a lot more murder if anything happened to Sebastian before she reached him.

They rounded a bend and the gathered rebels came into view. A mixed company of escaped Circle mages and nervous-looking Templars. At their center stood Grace, recognizable only from her tattoo. The frightened mage that Hawke had once apprehended in a cave was replaced by a woman possessed of a cruel and confident air. An unnatural magic suffused the island, made the hair on Hawke’s arms stand on end.

Off to the side, lying on his back, was Sebastian, still as stone.

As fury welled up from deep within Hawke, she heard her father’s voice. A conversation they had when Hawke was fourteen.

 _Control your emotions,_ he said. _Keep the world at a distance. Demons use emotion to gain a foothold. Rage, pride, lust. An abomination is a worse fate than death by Templar blade._

_But if I’m concentrating on control, I can’t tap into my full power._

_You’re a Hawke. Even at half-strength you’ll be more than a match for anyone who threatens you. As long as you train hard and keep a cool head._

None of that mattered if Sebastian was dead.

There was a strange thumping in Hawke’s chest. A pulse separate from her heartbeat. A calling to the place from where she drew her magic. She held it in check, intrigued but not letting it grow. Answers before bloodshed. “What did you do to him, you worthless maleficar?”

A Templar, Thrask, stepped in. “Champion, please, we stand against Meredith, not you. Surely you can see that her methods are not in line with the Templar code or the will of the Chantry. Won’t you help us put a stop to her?”

“No, you’re no better than she is. Holding an innocent man hostage to get your way. You will answer for this.” Her lips pulled back in a snarl. These people were delusional, and that made them dangerous.

“Please, Champion, I have nothing but respect for you. We’ll release the priest once we have your word—”

“No!” Grace shouted. “The priest dies, then the Champion. She killed the best man I ever knew. I will have my revenge.” A red glow emanated from Grace as she dug a staff out of her chest. She took a step toward Sebastian and the pulse flared within Hawke, stronger than before. It staggered her long enough for Varric to fire a bolt straight into Grace’s heart. The maleficar gasped and fell forward into the sand. It was ended before it began.

Varric chuckled and hefted Bianca onto his shoulder. “Done and dusted. Sorry for taking your kill, Hawke. ...Hawke?”

She stared at Grace’s corpse. Something was wrong. She felt the Veil rip before the demon’s claws appeared. The hulking Pride demon tore through Grace’s corpse, its gateway into the world of the living.

“Templars! To me!” Thrask shouted as he led the charge toward the demon. With one swipe of its claw, it crushed Thrask’s chest and, by the sound of his screaming, the leg of the Templar beside him. The Templars were only a momentary distraction. Grace’s final desire was imprinted upon it and it turned toward Sebastian, who remained as still as when Hawke arrived. Its claw raised and Hawke lost her careful control.

With a shout of rage, she grabbed hold of the pulse of energy and bent it to her will. She reached out and a massive pair of Fade hands gripped the Pride demon. Behind her, Isabela swore in surprise and Varric murmured, “Maker’s breath.”

The demon struggled against the hold, unable to move. It screamed at Hawke and she screamed right back. A wordless thing, filled with fury. She made a tearing motion with her fists and the Fade hands wrenched the demon apart.

Those gathered stood in stunned silence. Hawke turned to them. “Who among you is maleficarum?”

About half of the mages exchanged nervous glances or took a half-step back. With the energy humming in her, she could pinpoint the unnatural magic she’d felt when she arrived. With small flicks of her fingers, one by one, the blood mages’ necks snapped and they fell to the sand. When there was only one left, she paused. The sense was fainter and the boy cowered behind a pair of Templars.

“Alain?” she said. “Another fool that I rescued.”

“Please, Champion, I don’t want anyone else to die. Blood magic was used to hold your friend. It’s the only was to release him.”

The pulse ebbed. Sebastian might be all right. “Do it.”

Alain scrambled to Sebastian’s side and drew a dagger against his own arm. With a spurt of the red glow, Sebastian gasped, his back arching. “Get back!” he shouted and punched Alain square in the nose. Then he propped himself up on an elbow and blinked at the bright sunlight. Staring in confusion at his surroundings, he asked, “Where am I?”

“Sebastian!” The pulse evaporated and Charlie ran to his side. She fell to the sand and hugged him to her. “How are you? How do you feel?”

“I—I don’t know, it’s all a blank. The last thing I remember is fighting off Templars in your foyer.”

Charlie laughed through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’ll never let anything like this happen again. I should’ve listened to you and never left bed yesterday morning.”

Sebastian rubbed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. “It’s another perfectly fine morning, _mo cridhe_. I’m waking in your arms again.”

“The Choir Boy?” Isabela folded her arms under her breasts with a bewildered frown. “Did you know about this, Varric?”

“Of course, I did, Rivaini,” he said with mock offense.

“And you didn’t tell me? I thought we were friends.”


End file.
